I, WOULD CRY - NO MORE……… Silence Before the Storm Thunder Storms Gather….Incessant Crackling The Trumpets Bellow Raised Voices Angrier Exchange Deafening Shouts Verbal Lashings and Thrashings Meaningless Debates Lacerating Wounds Torn Sensibilities Flabbergasted Accusations Battle Guns that Spit Molten Lava – Seers the Mortal Flesh, Sinew and Bones Defenses and Bunkers of Petty Egos Shards and Empty Shells of Spiteful Words Strewn Across the Battle Field Maimed Sensibilities No Dead Bodies, No Casualties… Prisoners of Perceptions Mere Dead Consciences, Carcass of the Soul, the Bleeding Heart Defeat Retreat Defeat Retreat “We ll take you down,” they said. “We couldn’t bury you, couldn’t stifle your outcries at the time of your cursed birth and we had to say: “It’s a girl!” even though our hearts sank thinking of the liabilities. So now we ll kill you piece by piece, day by day. "We ll drive nails into your heart, we ll shred it, we ll feed the pieces to the dogs, we ll let the gossiping tongues devour your flesh. We ll rip your lumnious liquid eyes out, because it is the only thing, in the reflection of which we are forced to see the ugliness of our own behavior, the outrageousness of our own double standards, above all our callousness. So We would Pluck em out!” I know now... They don’t bow and prostate before God, don’t chant His rosary; they bow before the world they live in and its double standards. Meanwhile, I, am perceived as the witch, as the sorceress; I am going to be trialed and prosecuted. I am going to be hung from the noose, till I die. I am going to be burned at; the stake, the pyre, the alter. I am going to be stoned. I am going to be trialed and killed - again, again and again because I refuse to die – once and for all. I make a come back. I am the banshee, as dark and twisted as the dripping coils and strands covering my back and reaching down to the hips. I am the sacrificial she-goat…they fed me all summer long, fattened me up on lies and empty dreams…..Now it’s the bitter winter of destitute – my destitute, and they are sharpening their knives and coaxing me to lie down….sacrifice yourself for respectability’s sake. “Sacrifice yourself to please others. That’s what you are made nay born for.” The reflection in my eyes stares back at them, distorting their own images. I run away…..I run for my life…I run away from life… I keep running… Defeat..Retreat... But then It’s a Cursed Womb that I have stumbled out of! That is the One that Didn’t Deserve Me! One that has still imprisoned me. One that is still sucking the life blood out of me! Only Expectations, Responsibilities for Me….No Rights, No Respite, No Relief. I keep dying from inside, and no body would give a damn. Acquaintances say: “Next time! We are too occupied right now! No No We do miss you and we ll make it up to you – the next time” Next time? This is the last time I asked for something. Don’t you know… it was the flood last time; it would be the fire next time. The end of it all! All stories rise out of fire, Paulo Cohelo said. And hence, into the fire, all must go! I retreat to my bunker...the dark recess…..my grave above the ground…… The tears flow, the swollen eyes keep, being unable to blink keep staring at the walls and the revolving fan, going round and round… the universe, this forgotten life and its tattered sanity spins out of control. I am the axis, yet I want to let go off the reins, I want to see their universe, hurl and crash…just like they crashed mine! Rage … Rage … Rage A storm Rages in My Heart, throbes in My Temples… I want to Become the Fire…Nay I am the Fire...I Shall be Consumed! I Shall Consume All…. I reach my resolve, once the eyes have gone dried – just like the first monsoon – washing away the grit and the dirt…I WOULD CRY NO MORE…enough is ENOugh. THEY SHOULD CRY…FOR FAILING ME… FOR BETRAYING ME…FOR FORSAKING ME …THEY SHOULD CRY…..FOR I, WOULD CRY NO MORE………